Common Senses
by Geeky-DMHG-Fan
Summary: A series of connected one-shots featuring my favorite wizarding couple and the five senses. DMHG EWE
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I own nothing.

I'm trying to write more (specifically on Leftovers), but it's been hard. I'm rusty. So I'm taking small steps. One-shots that are tied together by the theme of the senses. They do build on each other, but each one can stand alone, just in case I abandon this.

* * *

Draco: Smell

* * *

Draco Malfoy tried not to roll his eyes as the sixth year student clamored for his help.

After all, he had volunteered to be a teaching assistant for Advanced Potions when he returned to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year. At the time he had done it so as not to be shown up by his fellow Head and perpetual nuisance, Hermione Granger, who had also offered her services. Now though, as he went over to help the incompetent and infatuated Sharon Vernus for the thousandth time this year, he began to question the wisdom of that decision.

The younger witch inched closer to him, but he studiously ignored her.

Spirals of steam floated above the cauldron, caressing Draco's face and invading his nostrils as he glared down at the iridescent brew.

He blinked.

Leaning down closer, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, then blinked again.

He glanced quickly abound the room and unable to find what he was looking for, his stomach lurched.

A familiar scent hovered in the air, standing out starkly against the other aromas brewing in the classroom. All the more so, for he knew of no potion with an ingredient that smelled like this.

If the scent had a name, he hadn't been able to discover it. Some blend of vanilla and apricots perhaps?

Though he couldn't name the fragrance, he certainly knew it. Having sat behind the tangle of curls that sprung every which way from Granger's scalp, and having breathed in and out the scent of those curls in every class every day for the last year, he couldn't seem to escape it.

Not that it really mattered, because now Draco had something even greater to worry about. Namely, why the hell was he smelling Hermione Granger's shampoo in an Amortentia potion.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This one isn't quite as sight heavy as I wanted, but it will have to do.

* * *

 **Draco: Sight**

* * *

Draco straightened his framed diploma and took a step back. Satisfied that it was level, he walked over to his chair and sat down, only to see that the picture on his desk was askew. As he reached to set it aright, Photo Narcissa beamed at Photo Draco, while Photo Lucius stood tall behind him, his hand resting on his shoulder. There hadn't been many opportunities for family pictures these past couple of years, what with Lucius under house arrest first imposed by Voldemort, and then by the Ministry of Magic. But Lucius had been granted special permission to attend Draco's graduation ceremony from Hogwarts.

Draco ran his hands through his hair. Things were better now, he reminded himself.

Tomorrow Draco would start his first proper job, given to him not because of his parents' connections (ha! those no longer existed), but on the strength of his performance on his NEWTs and at his interview. With a small sigh of contentment, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed his new office.

It wasn't much to boast about, but after an hour of cleaning and straightening spells, it was pristine.

Reaching into his right desk drawer, he pulled out a bag of Fizzing Whizbees and popped one of the sherbet-flavored candies into his mouth. The bubbles effervesced on his tongue and he savored the feeling of weightlessness as he began to rise from his chair. Only his knees hitting the underside of the desk prevented him from floating higher.

Noticing a smudge on his name plate, he pulled out his handkerchief to clean the gift from his parents. The white gold in which his name and job title had been engraved in the marble now gleamed as brightly as the rest of his office.

He was just putting his handkerchief away when someone knocked on the door. Not waiting for permission, the intruder burst in.

'Hello, I wanted to introdu—'

Draco fumbled for his armrests and held himself down to the chair. Glancing up, his irritation soon turned to shock when he saw who was standing in his doorway.

Hermione Granger?

Clearly, she was just as surprised to see him. She blinked and had yet to utter another word.

It had been nearly two months since he had seen her last. He had tried not to look at her as they glided across the Great Lake, though it was difficult as they shared the same boat with two other graduates. She had been happily chatting with the Girl Weasley, while he fixed his eyes on the choppy waters below.

When they had reached the other side of the lake, he alighted from the boat first. For reasons he had yet to identify, he considered holding his hand out to help her. Summoning his courage, he was just about to speak when someone called out her name and she jumped out of the boat. Two brown-haired people—her parents, he assumed—rushed forward to greet her, and soon after a sea of red hair descended _en masse_ on her and the youngest Weasley. Just before he turned away, their eyes met and she smiled at him before being swallowed up by the crowd.

She was still the same Granger he remembered, though with slight alterations which he quickly decided were improvements. Her mother must have given her a talk about workplace professionalism. The stylish white robes she wore were much more fitted than anything she'd had at Hogwarts, though still managed to be tasteful. The only other change was her hair. The exuberant ringlets had been pulled back from her face, artfully piled at the top of her head. The hand she had held out to shake his moved to her neck, self-consciously touching the spot behind her ear. He silently cursed, realizing he had been wondering if she still used the same shampoo.

'What are you doing here?' Draco asked, more harshly than he intended.

'I…that is to say,' she pressed her hands against her stomach, then smoothed out her robes. 'I am the new researcher for the International Magical Office of Law.'

That was news to him. Unaccustomed to being tactful, he struggled to find the politest way of telling her she was wrong. 'I think you are mistaken,' he said as gently as he could, then pointed to his name plate. 'For you see, _I_ am the new researcher for the International Magical Office of Law.'

Before Granger could respond, Draco's new boss stuck her head into the office. 'Ah, I see I have arrived too late and you've already met.'

Granger whirled around, and Draco's eyes moved down her body, stopping where the white material of her robes fluttered just above her knees.

'Draco and I know each other from school.'

 _Draco?_

His head snapped up to her face, only to find her looking at him. He saw confusion in her eyes, but he refused to look away as that would mean he had done something wrong. He felt his jaw tighten, and he hoped that the heat he felt in his face did not mean he was blushing.

The small but athletic Mavis Garner, head of the International Magical Office of Law, stepped inside, looking around at his office.

'I assumed as much.'

Mavis strolled over to Draco's desk and picked up his name plate. 'Nice,' she said, then set it back down crookedly. 'Just so you are aware, you two will be working with each other. A lot. We even put your offices across from each other to make communication easier.' Mavis gestured with her hand to his open door.

Sure enough, Draco could see her desk from where he sat. It was still covered with unpacked boxes.

'I must say I have heard rumors that you two did not get along in school. I hope that is a thing of the past.' Mavis's stern green gaze shifted between them, reminding him of Headmistress McGonagall.

'Of course,' they said in unison.

Mavis clapped her hands together loudly. 'Excellent. Well, I'll leave you to it. See you tomorrow at nine,' and with that, she was gone.

Draco watched as Granger walked over to his diploma. His hand twisted in the fabric of his robe, trying to focus on any anything other than the treacherous idea of pulling the pins from her hair and burying his face in the soft mass of curls. Or at least he assumed it was soft; he'd never touched it.

'I like what you've done to your office,' she said.

'Thank you,' was all he could think to say.

'I should probably get going. I still have a lot of setting up to do.'

Draco nodded.

She was about to walk out of his office when she turned around. 'Just one last thing.' She walked over to his desk, picked up his name plate and used the sleeve of her robe to polish it. When she set it back down, it was as it had been before Mavis had moved it. 'Much better.'

Without thinking Draco said, 'Would you care for some help…Hermione?'

She looked up at him and smiled. 'I'd like that.'

Draco followed her out of his office, his feet not touching the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I own nothing.

Someone asked if I would be doing any of these from Hermione's POV. The answer is yes. I will be doing five from Draco's POV first. Then five from Hermione's. However, they won't cover the same instances (at least I don't think they will), and they will probably take place under a different work scenario.

* * *

Draco: Touch

* * *

Draco wracked his brain, trying to remember the last time he'd touched Hermione. The only memory he could conjure was over five years ago. Come to think of it, he hadn't even touched her. She'd hit him. Hard.

Brave was a not a word he, or anyone, would ever use to describe himself. Cunning, yes, but never brave. He'd known her for almost a decade, liked her for the last year, worked closely with her these past three months, and all he had to show for it was slap on the face.

But that was about to change.

He'd walked into her office, needing to discuss one of the finer points of some magical law. But Hermione could give him no answer. She was fast asleep at her desk, her head resting in the crook of her elbow. He watched her back rise and fall and suppressed the urge to smile at her quiet snores.

The fantasy of running his fingers through her hair had not abated. Had grown even more elaborate, much to his chagrin. But maybe, maybe if he touched her, saw it was not all he'd built it up to be, he'd be able to let go of the mad ideas he'd had of them being together brought on by that damned Amortentia potion.

Of course, now that he had the opportunity to make it a reality he was afraid—afraid of her waking up, afraid that it wouldn't be enough and he'd go on wanting more.

The fingers of his right hand uncurled then started tingling as the blood rushed back into his palm.

Tentatively, he reached out his hand. One curl in particular caught his eye. He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger, and gently, so as not to wake her, ran his fingers down its length, stopping only where it ended at the silken skin of her neck. Her hair was neither soft like a Puffskein nor hard as a fire crab; if he had to label it, he would say it was characteristic of a unicorn's mane.

Hermione let out a sigh, and Draco took a step back, pressing his trembling hand against his outer thigh.

At that moment, Hermione half opened one of her eyes.

'Nice of you to join the land of the living,' he said.

She scrunched her brows together, squinting at him as if he were the sun. 'Draco?' She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear out the haze of sleep. 'What are you doing here?'

'Had a question about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.'

'Sorry. I can't believe I fell asleep,' she said through a yawn.

'It's late.'

She slowly pushed herself up to a seated position. 'How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?'

'Not long.'

'That's good. What did you need help with again?

'The International-'

'Right! I have a book about it on my shelf.' She held out her hand to him. 'Help me from my seat, would you?'

Draco stepped forward, taking her fingers in his and ignoring the gooseflesh that erupted over his skin.

He'd been right to be afraid. It wasn't enough, and he was beginning to wonder if it would ever be.

* * *

A/N: I was trying to think of times D and Hr have actually had any physical contact in the movies or books, and the Buckbeak slap is the only thing that came to mind. I'm happy to be corrected.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Draco: Taste

* * *

'Knock, knock,' Hermione Granger said from the entrance to Draco Malfoy's office.

Ignoring the sudden pounding of his heart, Draco did not look up from his scroll as he waved her into the room. Without invitation, she walked over to the other side of his desk and stood behind him, bringing with her the scent of apricots and vanilla.

'What are you doing here?' she asked, as she leaned over his shoulder to examine what he was working on. 'It's New Year's Eve.'

'I could ask you the same question,' he said. Furrowing his brow, he pretended to concentrate on the text in front of him rather than the fall of curls down her back he saw out of the corner of his eye. She'd worn her hair down today. 'No hot date tonight with your Weasel?'

Hermione snorted. 'I haven't had a date since…' He heard her clear her throat. 'It's been awhile.'

The news caused his hand to jerk, but he covered the misstep by adding another flourish to his signature. With that done, he busied himself with putting the scroll away. No longer with an excuse to avoid eye contact, he raised his eyes to his coworker. 'Sounds like a potential New Year's resolution.'

Hermione shook her head, causing the curls to bounce everywhere. 'It's not something I have control over,' she said matter-of-factly.

While they frequently discussed non-work related things, Hermione's love life was a new topic of conversation—one in which he was extremely interested. But he couldn't let her know that, and so he made sure to keep his voice flat as he asked, 'And why's that?'

'I can't exactly _force_ a guy to ask me out.'

'Yes, I suppose casting an Imperius curse is out of the question.'

Hermione huffed in exasperation as she took a seat on his desk. 'That's not what I meant.'

'So you _would_ cast an Imperius? Tell me, is Mavis aware that she is employing a potential criminal?'

Try as he might, Draco was unable to keep from smirking when he heard Hermione's quiet growl. Picking up his quill again, he began to twist it in his fingers.

'Honestly, Granger, just do it yourself. I'm sure there are plenty of wizards falling over themselves to go on a date with you.'

She gave him a withering gaze. 'I refuse to beg for a date.'

His suggestion had been an obvious one, but he worried she'd actually take it. Draco quietly released the breath he had been holding. 'The intrepid Ms. Granger, brave enough to take on Voldemort but not the opposite sex.'

'It's not a question of bravery, but of pride. A girl wants to be asked.' She nudged his knee with her foot, and he debated wrapping his fingers around her ankle, but decided against it at the last second. 'If you're going to give me such a hard time about it, why aren't you dating anyone?'

Why indeed?

Why, for that matter, did he—the young, handsome, and rich Draco Malfoy (a catch for any witch as his mother constantly reminded him)—spend all his extra hours at work with Hermione Granger, though he was no workaholic?

And why did this same Draco Malfoy, who rarely lacked for confidence, find it so terribly difficult to tell Hermione Granger he wanted to date her?

If he had been in his office alone, he would have wrung his hands in despair. But she was here, so he merely answered, 'I have no time to date.'

'No kidding. We practically live here.'

Draco opened his right desk drawer and pulled out a decanter of Firewhisky.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'This just proves my point.'

'As a rule, I don't drink at work except for special occasions. I think the eve of the new Millennium qualifies.' Overcoming his childhood prejudice by falling for the world's most famous Muggleborn had to count for something too.

'Technically speaking, the new millenium doesn't start until 2001.'

'Well, if it's only technically...'

Draco set down two shot glasses and filled one with firewhisky. He pushed the glass towards Hermione, but she made no move to drink it.

With a loud sigh, Hermione pushed off the desk and began to pace. 'You realize we are the only two people on this floor right now. The only two people who even came in today.'

Of this he was acutely aware. How could he not be when he'd been trying all day to summion the courage to cross the hall and ask her to dinner?

Malfoy shrugged. 'My family are vacationing in France, and I preferred my own company to that of my house elves. But why aren't you with your family, or with the other parts of your Golden Trio?'

Hermione groaned. 'My parents are actually at a party. And I didn't want to be the third wheel at midnight, standing around looking pathetic while everyone around me is kissing. Or worse, fighting off some loser my friends tried to set me up with.'

An offer of kissing her at midnight sprang instantly to his mind but was summarily dismissed. One does not go from years of hatred to romantic overtures overnight, he reminded himself. Again. By some miracle he had managed to move their relationship from outright hostility to pleasant office camaraderie, but Draco was beginning to despair of ever crossing that last bridge. And so, instead of being elated by her self-imposed singleness, Draco could only manage some half-hearted teasing. 'Need I remind you that not five minutes ago you were complaining about being perpetually dateless.'

'I suppose it's more accurate to say I haven't accepted a date in a while.'

'Technically speaking, you mean?'

She must have found this amusing, for she laughed as she picked up her drink. 'So what's your New Year's resolution?'

'I don't have one,' he lied.

'How could you not?!' she said, her voice nearly a squeak. 'You have to have a New Year's resolution!'

'I must have missed that in my wizarding handbook. Which magical law requires it?'

Hermione ignored his question. 'Mine is to enjoy life more and try new things.'

'A sound resolution indeed.'

'At least I have a resolution,' she grumbled.

'A resolution assumes some kind of defect.'

Hermione curtsied to him in mock deference. 'Forgive me, Lord Draco. I forgot you are a god sojourning among mortals.'

'An easy mistake to make. You are forgiven.'

They smiled at one another, and not for the first time a comfortable silence fell over the room. In the stillness his thoughts clamored all the louder. Now _is the time to tell her; ask her on a date_ now _._ _She's practically begging for it._

Ignoring the sudden dryness of his mouth, he swallowed.

'Hermione—'

'Draco—'

Hermione giggled. 'You go.'

'Ladies first, I insist.'

Coward!

Hermione turned the full force of her sparkling brown eyes on him. 'I was just going to say that if you don't need a resolution, the least you can do is help me with mine.'

She reached over to his decanter and poured him a shot. Knowing a challenge when he saw one, he made sure to keep eye contact with her as he quickly downed the drink. The alcohol warmed his insides nearly as much as the witch in front of him.

'This is awful,' Hermione gasped between coughs. 'But here's to trying new things!'

She'd never had firewhisky?! What kind of sheltered life had she lived? And with Potter and the Weasel as her friends too.

Hermione must have seen his unspoken question, for she said, 'Butterbeer is more my speed.'

'You always were the cautious one.'

She scrunched up her nose at those words, though he hadn't meant it as an insult. Who was he to tease her about caution when he'd been sitting on the sidelines like a gormless Hufflepuff, waiting for her to fall into his lap?

She poured herself another drink, and again gagged it down.

Strong fingers wrapped around his wrist and with a tug he was out of his chair. 'I have another idea, but you'll need to dress warmly.'

'Where are we going?'

'Do you realize that we've only interacted with each other at the Ministry?'

'And those eight years at Hogwarts? What was that?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Don't be such a—' And then her eyes got abnormally large. He knew the look. She always seemed to get it right before one of her flashes of brilliance. Although this was the first time he'd seen it outside the context of work. Perhaps that was why he felt so nervous now.

'Should I even ask?'

'It's probably better you don't.'

Draco reached for his coat and scarf as Hermione rushed into her office to retrieve her things. 'We'll have to go fast,' she yelled from across the hall. They met in the corridor, and Granger was practically bouncing on her toes. He took long strides, and it nearly wasn't enough to keep up with her as she bounded to the lift.

Neither of them said a word as they descended to the eighth floor. The usually bustling Atrium was dead silent. In fact, the only people there besides them were the security guards, who Granger greeted by name—naturally—as they headed to the disapparition point.

Once there, she held out her hand to him. 'Ready?'

'Just promise me we aren't going to some place crawling with every inhabitant of the wizarding world.' Draco was determined to ask her out, and he didn't want a crowd present.

Hermione's hand dropped a fraction. 'Don't want to be seen in public with me?' He could hear the strain in her voice, though she kept a smile firmly on her face, as if she were telling a joke.

Draco intertwined his fingers with hers. 'Not at all. I just hate large crowds.'

'So do I. Now brace yourself.'

His already twisted insides did not appreciate the side-along apparition, but he refused to complain. Instead, he pretended to stumble in to her when they appeared again.

'Are you alright, Draco?' she asked, wrapping her arms around him to steady him.

He straightened up, keeping his hands at her elbows, and looked around. He couldn't be sure—his vision was obscured by a tall bush—but they seemed to be in a park. There weren't any street lamps nearby, but he could still see Hermione's face in the moonlight. In the chill air, their breaths coalesced in the space between them.

This was it. The perfect moment for him to snog her senseless.

'We're in Muggle London. Near the Thames,' Hermione said in a hushed tone, eyeing him carefully.

A sudden shriek rent through the air, followed by raucous laughter and then terrible signing.

'Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!'

Draco stiffened, trying not to glare at a group of tipsy girls who had ruined his moment. They stumbled arm in arm through the park on their ridiculously high heels, continuing to yell tunelessly at the top of their lungs.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. 'You promised me no crowds.'

'Sorry,' she said, embarrassed. 'I forgot that people like to come here to see the fireworks.'

Hermione made her way to the path, then beckoned to him, holding her hand out again.

'Just follow me. I'll keep you safe,' she said teasingly.

'I'm not afraid of Muggles,' he huffed, but took her hand anyway.

He didn't have to follow her for very long. Their destination was just across the street. A large green and white sign shone in the dark, and while he appreciated the color scheme, Draco wasn't sure what he was looking at.

'Starbucks?'

'It's a Muggle coffee store,' she explained as she opened the door.

Draco blinked at the bright lights. The store reeked of coffee; excessively cheerful music pounded loudly in his ears, and already a Muggle had bumped into him on the way out of the store. His grip tightened around her fingers.

Thankfully, the queue moved surprisingly fast. But that brought with it another problem. Draco wasn't sure what to do.

Hermione must have sensed his trepidation for at that moment she told him, 'Don't worry. I'll order for us.'

'I wasn't worried, but I'll allow it. Special New Year's Eve dispensation.'

A man—Mike, if his name tag was to be believed—in a black shirt and green apron greeted them in an overly cheerful voice. 'Happy Holidays. What will it be?'

'Two venti caramel apple ciders with extra whipped cream,' Hermione said.

'Can I get your names please?' the cashier asked.

'Hermione and Draco.'

Mike quickly scribbled on the two cups. 'Got it.'

Draco reached for his wallet to pay, eager to contribute in some way. She may not have called this a date, but he didn't want her to think him lacking in all gentlemanly behavior. Or worse, relegate him permanently to the 'friend' category. Only, as he opened his wallet, he realized his money was no good here.

'I've got this,' she said.

Hermione pulled out a rectangle from her pocket and handed it to the cashier. It made no sense to him, but he decided not to question it. Instead he followed her over to the place people were receiving their drinks.

When their names were called, she got the cups and handed him his. He eyed the container in confusion.

Dreykoh.

Hermione laughed. 'You should see mine.'

She held her cup up, and he saw the word 'Harmonyknee' in barely legible print.

'Why don't we drink these outside?' she suggested, and he followed her out of doors. They meandered back to the park and sat down on a ledge wall.

Draco rolled the cup between his hands, using it to warm his fingers, plotting what to do next. There was no way he'd be able to look at himself in the mirror again if he didn't at least attempt something with Granger. But the same fears that had prevented him from speaking to her about this delicate subject reared their ugly heads. Certainly she couldn't like him that way. She'd laugh in his face, tell the whole Ministry, and then they'd laugh in his face too.

'I think you'll like it, since you have such a sweet tooth,' Hermione said.

'Hmm?'

 _Nice reply, Draco._ He was never at a loss for words. Ever. So why now, when he needed his verbal acuity the most, could he barely piece together a response? He was no better than Ronald Weasley.

Hermione mistook his shudder for cold. 'If you drink it, it should warm you up.'

'Was just waiting for it to cool so I didn't burn my tongue.'

He took a small sip, letting the liquid sit on his tongue. She was right; he did like it. It was like drinking a caramel covered apple.

'I'm surprised you didn't pitch a fit when I told you where we were.'

'My purpose is to assist you with your New Year's resolution. That would hardly have been helpful.'

Hermione laughed. 'Yes, thank you for deigning to help this poor mortal along her way.'

'I think I would need to explore Muggle London a bit more before coming to any conclusions. Perhaps we should come back next week to this Starbucks.'

'Sounds like a plan, but I should warn you that there is much more to Muggle London than a coffee shop.'

He raised his cup. 'To enjoying life.'

She tapped her cup against his and grinned. 'And trying new things.'

They continued to sip their drinks in silence until a series of 'pops' went off, and a kaleidoscope of colored lights shimmered in the air.

'It's probably close to midnight,' Hermione observed.

The shouts of people counting down to ten confirmed this.

'You've inspired me to make my own resolution,' Draco said hastily, suddenly determining that now was the time to act.

'Oh? What's that?'

Draco took another swallow of his drink. 'To be brave,' he said gruffly.

He braced himself for her laughter. After all, what self-respecting Slytherin would ever admit to wanting to be like a Gryffindor?

'Well, I would say you've accomplished it. You're in the middle of Muggle London. Could you have seen yourself in this position a year ago? Or even a month ago?'

Hermione smiled widely at him, and he had to look away so he didn't smile back. There was more that needed to be said. He couldn't let himself settle for this.

'Probably not, but I still have a ways to go.'

He felt Hermione's fingers insinuate themselves into his palm. 'Don't sell yourself short. I think you're very brave.'

'Right.'

'I'm serious! Being in Muggle London, Muggle anywhere is a huge step for you. And you're with me, poster child of Muggleborns. You've completely broken with your past, started over from scratch. Made friends with your enemies.'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'It's a start, I guess.'

'If you won't believe yourself, believe me. As an official Gryffindor, I know bravery when I see it.'

Draco took a deep breath. He finally turned to look at her. 'You have a little…' he trailed off, using his finger to indicate she had something on her lip.

Her eyes went wide, and she moved her hand to wipe away the whipped cream that really wasn't there.

'I'll get it,' he said, then took her face in his hands and kissed her.

He tried to be gentle; after all, he wasn't sure how she would receive his attentions. A small kiss could be easily forgotten, explained away by with a smirk and an offhand comment. But she sighed his name against his lips—his name!-and the months of pent-up longing burst through his carefully built dam. It was the work of a moment to pull her into his lap and bury his fingers in her hair. Her mouth parted under his, and he took his time, enjoying the taste of the caramel apple on her tongue.

Eventually needing to breathe, his lips traveled to her neck, pressing open mouth kisses to the skin there. 'I've been wanting to do this for a while now,' he admitted.

'Probably not as long as I've wanted you to,' Hermione said just as breathily.

He pulled back, pleasantly surprised.

Hermione kissed him lightly on the mouth. 'I was beginning to despair that you never would, and I had employed all the Slytherin cunning I possessed, which admittedly isn't much.'

'From where I'm sitting, I think we did pretty well for ourselves.'

'Well, we were Head Boy and Head Girl. We're pretty much unstoppable.'

'Technically speaking, that makes us gods sojourning among mortals.'

Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. 'Well, if it's only a technicality...'

Another firework exploded above them, causing the night sky to shimmer in red and green.

* * *

 **To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything.

So, here is the last of Draco. I am thinking about Hermione's turn, and I'm much more excited about it. It's a different scenario, and I'm thinking they will work in the Unspeakables department. =D

* * *

 **Draco: Sound**

* * *

Hermione always had a way with words. At Hogwarts, he'd found it annoying. Then he'd thought her a show off, but much had changed in the past year. It was now one of his favorite things about her.

Part of it, he knew, was that he liked the way she spoke—the timbre of her voice, the cadence of her speech, the way her pitch and volume rose as she grew excited about the ideas she shared. Even when she didn't speak, when she read silently to herself, he found himself enamored of the way her pretty lips would form about the unspoken syllables.

Her vocabulary, too, was expansive. Or was it extensive? Hermione would know. It was always so very important for her to use just the right word at the right time and in the right way. Indeed, their first argument as a couple stemmed from a five-minute discussion about a research summary they had drafted together for Mavis. Were the arithmantic principles of the number 47 on the newly discovered Wenlock scroll obscure, but important (her words) or esoteric and of limited use (his)? (He: You're being pedantic, just like Wenlock. She: I'm not a snob. You're the snob!)

He had grown up using his tongue as a weapon and had seen the damage he'd inflicted on others. But Hermione's mouth was capable of weaving all sorts of healing spells. He'd felt her magic on more than one occasion.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so upset over the number 47. That's not to say that it's not important—it is. It's just that, well, you're more so.'

'Actually, you're my best friend.'

'See, I told you there was nothing to worry about. My parents loved you.'

'Of course I was nervous! I want your parents to like me.'

Hermione looked up from her parchment, bringing the nib of her quill to her mouth. 'Do you think I should use suggest or encourage? Or advocate? I don't want to demand anything, but they need to know it's imperative that the changes are adopted as soon as possible.'

He wanted to make magic with his words as well. Countless hours had been spent on choosing the right words. Narcissa had even been consulted. He'd finally decided that simple and to the point was best.

'Draco, are you even listening?'

He got down on one knee and said, 'I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. Will you marry me?'

He hoped she wasn't disappointed he hadn't used any five-syllable words. But then, her answer hadn't either.

'Yes!'

* * *

 **To Be Continued**


End file.
